


Civilian Clothes

by dryswallow



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, Future Fic, feat. Wingman Connie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 22:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dryswallow/pseuds/dryswallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mikasa asked if Sasha would accompany her on the mission as second-in-command, Sasha had said yes without hesitation. Now, waiting in the cold shadow of Wall Rose, she is scared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Civilian Clothes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [riiiied](https://archiveofourown.org/users/riiiied/gifts).



> I hope I did the request justice! This takes place in a future version of the canon. This was written before the release of ch. 51, so this is now probably more canon divergent that an actual future fic.

Sasha’s ears and nose burn with cold despite the wool scarf she wears high on her neck. The solstice may have passed a week ago but spring is slow coming, especially on early mornings spent in unheated stables. She cups her hands around her face and exhales, warming herself with the heat of her own breath.

The stalls around her are crowded with young soldiers preparing their horses. Their faces are stiff with nervousness even though the mission has been classified as low-risk for all involved. Sasha has been assured that this time there are no secret objectives, no titans to lure out and capture, no walls to be sealed. Just a handful of soldiers examining the state of the lands beyond Wall Rose.

Mikasa had come to Sasha a week earlier, saying she had been put in charge of a preliminary resettlement expedition. It would take less than two days; she had been instructed to lead a team to investigate the land and set up a cache for future use. They would leave from the southernmost gate of Wall Rose, where the titans have always been fewest.

“Resettlement” is what they’re calling it. Some months ago, the Survey Corps had managed to seal the hole in Wall Maria and ever since then the towns have been filled with a palpable anxiety. Missions to kill any titans remaining between the walls came to reasonable success, and now that spring is upon them, humanity has the chance to do more than just eke out its survival. It can reclaim the land. It can begin to thrive.

Similar things had been said the last time the government had ordered people out into the land beyond Wall Rose, and that had ended in nothing but death. The recent successes of the Survey Corps had the populace excited, but their memory of the previous incident had them skeptical. Even among the soldiers assigned to the mission, there was talk.

When Mikasa asked if Sasha would accompany her on the mission as second-in-command, Sasha had said yes without hesitation. Now, waiting in the cold shadow of Wall Rose, she is scared. She and Mikasa are the only two from the 104th Trainees Squad on this mission, and the lack of familiar faces is hardly comforting. Her heartbeat thrums loud in her throat.

“Are you ready?” Mikasa asks. She speaks calmly, though Sasha knows she has been on edge ever since Eren was separated from her again. He was taken back behind Wall Shina for reasons Sasha does not have access to, not with a rank as low as hers.

Sasha pets at the neck of the horse beneath her. Through the leather of her gloves she cannot feel the warmth of its body or the softness of its fur, but knowing they are there gives her some comfort. The horse taps a hoof against the ground, anxious as any of the soldiers.

“I am,” Sasha says in earnest. She turns, facing Mikasa. “Are you?”

Mikasa nods, then turns to signal to the guards stationed at the wall. With a rattling of chains the gate begins to lift, and the ground before them is flooded with light.

-

They follow the old roads, winding over hills and past fields that have gone years without harvest. Mikasa has been instructed to bring her troop through various towns, making note of what damage has been done and what will need to be rebuilt. 

Occasionally there will be movement in the distance, the distinct silhouettes of titans as they prowl over the land. Mikasa’s heart catches every time, but she sends up her green smoke signals confidently, moving her troop in a safer direction. Their luck holds, and the first day of their mission comes to a close without a single encounter.

Their final destination is a small town that was once a vibrant farming community, though it has since fallen to ruin. Sasha points to a house a short distance from the edge of town, suggesting it as an ideal place to rest for the night. It is almost guaranteed to have a cellar, she tells Mikasa, making it a good place to deposit the supplies they have with them. Being atop a hill will provide them with good visibility from all sides, will allow them to spot danger long before it arrives.

Sasha’s insight has come through for her before, and Mikasa chooses to place her trust in it. She assigns her troop to staggered watch shifts over the course of the night. Her own shift does not take place until in the early morning, when the moon is high and bright. She takes her place in the yard outside the farmhouse, resting her sore feet by the small fire left burning for warmth. Fortunately, the other soldier on watch is quiet and does not force conversation on her. She is given time to draw back into herself.

In the silence, Mikasa’s thoughts drift naturally to Eren. He is in her mind constantly, and all the more so when he is beyond her physical reach. Thanks to his sharp mind and skill for planning, Armin has been gaining access to an increasing amount of information and power. Not enough power to have any real influence over what happens to Eren, of course, but he has been able to deliver news to Mikasa on a regular basis. It tears at her nerves to go so long without being able to confirm Eren’s safety with her own eyes, but he has sent letters in his poor and misspelled script. He is safe and alive. She will keep faith.

The door of the farmhouse creaks. Looking over, Mikasa can see Sasha emerging from the darkness for her turn on watch, a thick coat wrapped around her body.

“How’s it been?” Sasha asks cheerfully as she comes up the path.

“Quiet,” Mikasa says. “Thankfully.”

Sasha sits down close to the fire. Mikasa watches her as she removes her gloves and holds her hands close to the flames, soaking in their heat. She is quiet for several minutes, though she glances over at Mikasa every now and then.

“Can I ask you something?” Sasha says eventually.

“Of course.”

“Why did you choose me?” Sasha asks. “I mean, I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t want to come, but I’m curious. You had your pick of anyone, didn’t you?”

Mikasa turns the question over in her head before answering. Sasha is right; while most of her team was assigned to her, she was given the privilege of choosing any of her fellow soldiers to support her on the mission. She had thought it over for hours before offering the position to Sasha.

“You’re skilled, and resilient,” Mikasa finally speaks. “You have good intuition. You’re good at putting those around you at ease. And I trust you. Those are my reasons.”

The words came to her easily. All of it is true.

“Besides all that,” Mikasa admits, “I like your cooking. The rations they give us are awful. The way you prepare it tastes best.”

Looking up, Mikasa can see that Sasha has broken into a large smile.

“Thank you,” she says with the kind of earnesty that Mikasa has come to admire in her, and Mikasa cannot help but bask in it.

-

They set out in the early morning, taking a different route back to Wall Rose so they’re able to survey more of the land. The villages they pass through have different names, but it all looks the same on the outside. Vacant houses, shattered windows, crumbling stone. Sasha cannot help but think of her own home and how it may look now, or how it may look in the future.

The rooms of the house they had stayed in the night before were not as empty as she had expected. There were drawers filled with clothing, and names written on bedroom doors. That was the worst part of it: looking at what was there and knowing what was not.

But she is a soldier now. In the morning, Sasha had followed along with everyone else as they packed their things and moved on.

It’s mid-afternoon when Sasha catches sight of the titan in the distance, and immediately fear begins to eat at her lungs and throat. Sasha knows she is like an animal; she lives by instinct and intuition. No matter how many times she faces them, no matter how many she has killed, she cannot distract herself from the fact that they are predators and she is prey.

Without hesitation, Mikasa sends up a red smoke signal. There are shouts behind them as the other soldiers catch sight of the colour blooming overhead.

“What’s the plan?” Sasha yells. “We’re heading straight for it!”

“Them,” Mikasa corrects.

Looking into the distance again, Sasha can see that Mikasa is right; there are two now, one larger than the other. Neither of them look higher than fifteen metres, but battles are never easy on open land. Avoiding them would be ideal, but the horses are already tired and at this point, it would be impossible not to be spotted. They have to fight.

Mikasa calls out to the three soldiers on her right, telling them to ride forward and intercept the titans. Seconds later, she gestures to Sasha to follow behind them as back-up, a precaution. Sasha urges her horse forward, one hand ready to activate her gear.

The kills are not clean. Sasha watches as the others take out first the titan’s legs, sending them to the ground. One soldier is caught by a titan’s flailing arm as it falls. The cracking of bone is faint but it rings in Sasha’s ears all the same. These soldiers are younger than her, less experienced. They manage to kill one of the titans but the other is still snapping at them, grabbing at them with its absurdly thin arms. The injured soldier is screaming, collapsed on the ground some distance away.

Her movements feel rehearsed. Without thinking, she has leapt from her horse, swinging through the air towards the fallen titan. She comes down hard on the back of its neck, plunging steel through its skin. Her strike is messy but effective. Flesh separates from bloody flesh as the titan’s head lolls away from its body. It’s disgusting. No matter how many kills she makes, Sasha hopes she will never find this to be anything other than disgusting.

Sasha barely has time to calm her breathing before she is back on her horse and their troop is moving forwards again.

They reach Wall Rose not long after their encounter with the titans. A mob of people has already formed by the time they pass through the gate, faces peering curiously out at them. Sasha can hear the usual criticisms, the nervous whispers, but she can also hear awe and relief as the crowd processes what they are seeing.

One broken arm. Bruises here and there. No deaths.

Riding alongside Mikasa at the front of the procession, Sasha holds her head high.

-

A successful mission is a great excuse for a party. The night after Sasha returns from the mission, members of the Survey Corps flood one of the local pubs, pooling their money to buy rounds of ale and greasy food. At Connie’s urging, Jean brings out his fiddle and begins to play folk songs that all of them know, but with different words.

Sasha gives her first dance to Historia, though she keeps her distance so as not to offend Ymir. Her second and third go to a shy boy from the 105th Trainees Squad who had accompanied them on the mission. As always, she saves most of her dances for Connie. The dances he brought with him from his village are not at all similar to hers, but he has shown more willingness to learn than anyone else. Sasha takes great pleasure in teaching him each step, then dragging him out to the middle of the floor to practice them with her. It makes her feel like a normal girl again.

While dancing, Sasha catches sight of Mikasa is over in the corner with Armin, heads close as they speak to one another. The two of them have been there for most of the night, though Armin was briefly dragged away for a few dances. Their expressions have alternated between worry and relief, but never sorrow, never pain, and for this Sasha is grateful. She has seen Mikasa with these expressions before. The sight of it had made her stomach feel heavy with sympathetic pain, had made her arms ache with a need to pull Mikasa close.

“Dude, whatever you’re thinking about, just ask her,” Connie says.

“What?” Sasha asks, embarrassed. “What do you mean?”

“You keep looking at Mikasa.”

“Yeah, well, you’d look at someone a lot too if you kept thinking about them! I mean-”

Distracted, Sasha’s legs tangle beneath her and she stumbles, nearly crashing into a table. Connie pulls her away at the last second, snorting with laughter.

“You’re doing a great job of being subtle about it,” he says.

“Rude!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

The sound of Jean’s fiddle stops as the song comes to an end, and Sasha pulls away from Connie. The crowd has started to thin with the lateness of the night. She’s running out of time to put this off.

Sasha sighs. “You’re right, though. I should just go ask her.”

“Want me to come with?” Connie asks.

“You don’t mind?” Sasha asks.

Connie grins at her. “Are you kidding me? A great wingman never lets his friends down!”

They make their way through the crowd, over to where Armin and Mikasa sit. A wave of nausea hits Sasha hard in the stomach, but she clenches her fists and stops herself from turning back. She has faced down monsters and lived, she reminds herself. Asking a simple question should not feel so daunting.

“Mikasa!”

Mikasa looks up. Sasha nods her head in greeting at both of her and Armin.

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” Sasha says. “Do you have any free time tomorrow night? I’m hoping to cook dinner for you.”

“I am free,” Mikasa answers. “And I’d like that.”

“Come by my room at seven?”

“Sure.”

Sasha smiles widely. She’s barely aware of Connie giving her a congratulatory pat on the back as she ducks back into the crowd, heart astir with plans.

-

 

It isn’t that Sasha believes that the way to someone’s heart is through their stomach (although the close proximity of the two organs must be of some significance). She loves sharing food with others and cooking for them regardless of whether they are her family, her friends, or something else altogether. A meal fills the body with warmth; it provides life and energy. Pleasure, too.

Sasha splurges in the market, filling her satchel with spices, pastries, and a fine cut of beef. When she lays out all the necessary dishes and ingredients, they take up all of the kitchen’s counter space and part of the table as well. The flat she shares with Historia and another girl in the Survey Corps barracks is small and fills quickly with the smell of cooking. The windows turn white with steam, obscuring the city beyond them.

“Do you need help?” Historia asks her, poking her head out of their bedroom.

“No, no, I’m good!” Sasha insists. “Though, actually, would it be possible for you to- to not be here this evening? I’m having a guest.”

Historia gives Sasha a knowing smile.

“That’s fine,” she says. “Now I have an excuse to make Ymir take me out.”

Mikasa arrives soon after Historia takes her leave, earlier than Sasha has been expecting. Even in her civilian clothes, Mikasa carries an air of seriousness and power about her. Sasha feels plain in comparison, wearing only a simple dress and a dirty apron. But Mikasa does not seem to care; she sits at the kitchen table, listening patiently while Sasha chatters on about the herbs she found in the market and how they differ from the ones she grew in her hometown.

Sasha is talking much more than usual and she knows the damp nervousness in her chest is to blame. She can feel it weighing her down as she unties her apron and sets the table. But sometimes, Sasha thinks, being a woman of simplicity is a blessing; seeing Mikasa devouring her food with eagerness is all that Sasha’s nerves need in order to settle.

“That was delicious,” Mikasa says upon finishing her meal. “Thank you.”

“There’s still a bit more,” Sasha tells her. “I bought pastries for dessert.”

“You can stomach more food after all of that?” Mikasa teases.

“Always, if it’s pastries!”

Sasha’s heart delights at the quiet smile this brings to Mikasa’s face. She has been watching Mikasa all night long, hoping her intuition has not mislead her. Mikasa has seemed increasingly comfortable in Sasha’s presence ever since they first met several years ago. She may be quiet and strange, but she has shown Sasha kindness and comradery. Sasha cannot help but find value in that.

Sasha is broken from her thoughts when Mikasa stands and begins to come around to the other side of the table. In a panic, she assumes Mikasa means to collect and wash the dishes.

“Oh, no,” Sasha starts, quickly rising from her chair. “You’re the guest. Let me do it, please.”

Mikasa catches Sasha by the shoulder before she can start stacking dishes, pulling her back. 

“Sorry!” Sasha squeaks.

“You have no need to be,” Mikasa tells her.

Sasha is unsure of where to look. Their bodies are close; Mikasa’s hand is still resting on her shoulder and Sasha can hear herself breathing loudly, too loudly. And then Mikasa is moving with her usual swiftness and confidence, leaning forwards to place a kiss on Sasha’s mouth. The touch is soft and warm, unexpected but far from unwanted. In fact, Sasha had thought it would take many more meals together and perhaps a few dances in the pub for them to reach this point with each other.

When Mikasa pulls back, Sasha is still too shocked to do much other than stare. Her heart is swollen, beating too fast for her to know what to do with it.

“Oh,” Mikasa says. “Sorry, I thought-”

“No!” Sasha interrupts. “You’re right, you’re definitely right, I just wasn’t expecting it…”

Sasha ducks her head, aware of the flush burning high on her cheeks. A moment of silence passes between them.

“Should we try again?” Mikasa asks.

“That would be good, yeah.”

Sasha places her hands at Mikasa’s waist, pleased with the firmness, the steadiness of Mikasa’s body. This time, when Mikasa’s lips lower to hers, Sasha is more than ready.

-

Morning comes, months later.

Sasha wakes late to sun streaming across the bed, warming her skin. Mikasa is already up, lounging beside her in bed with a cup of tea. She smiles gently at Sasha but says nothing.

Still half-asleep, Sasha runs her hands over the scars that cross Mikasa thighs, thinking of how they match her own. It does not matter that neither of them are clothed; Mikasa is fortunate, and her rank affords her the privilege of a private bedroom.

Mikasa seems distracted this morning, as she often does. Sasha knows that Mikasa will never focus on her exclusively. Parts of her will always belong to Eren and Armin, and there will always be things she keeps from Sasha. But she lets Sasha cook for her, kiss her, and share her bed. She does not pull away when Sasha holds her hands to keep them from shaking. And for now, they have struck a balance. For now, Sasha would say she is happy.

Once she has finished her tea, Mikasa lowers herself to the mattress to lay alongside Sasha. She delivers kisses to Sasha’s forehead, mouth, and shoulders. When Mikasa’s body is pressed close to hers, Sasha can feel her own shape come into a sharper focus.

“Make us breakfast?” Mikasa asks, mouth hot against Sasha’s neck.

“Of course,” Sasha says.


End file.
